The Magical Carpetbag
by Foxcat93
Summary: A story from Max's childhood: He runs away from home and meets the Little Tramp, Charlie. A story of friendship, with humour/slapstick, pathos, drama and a lot of sentiment. Background notes on my profile page.
1. The Runaway

**The Magical Carpetbag**

It was June, 1938. Eight-year old Maxwell Smart woke up inside a boxcar. He had boarded the train earlier in the day after determining that running away from home was what he wanted to do. It was really what he needed to do. There was nothing for him in Washington, DC anymore.

Now it was dark and he started to have second thoughts. He looked out between the slats in the boxcar and saw a few lights here and there, but it was mostly darkness, except for the burgundy glow in the western sky.

Max had brought his flashlight, his penknife, some jerky and a biscuit that his friend Mickey's mother had baked fresh that morning. He also had brought a dollar that he had found on the street some time ago and had hidden for a "rainy" day. Well, it looked like "rain" now.

Max knew the train was headed southwest, but he didn't know where. It hadn't mattered before, but now he was getting a little scared. He didn't like being alone in the dark. He didn't like to admit that he was scared of the dark either. He went to the other side of the boxcar to see if he could make out anything in the waning western glow. He tripped over something soft and fell into the sweet-smelling hay that was still covering the floor.

Max pulled out his flashlight and turned it on to see what he had fallen over. It was a large carpetbag. Next to the bag lay a small man in a derby hat sleeping on the floor. As soon as Max shone the light in his face, he sat up startled. His hat tumbled off. "What d' y' want?" demanded the man, in an accent unfamiliar to Max.

Seeing someone in the boxcar with him startled Max too. Max thought the man must be a tramp. "Sorry, Mister."

When the man heard the boy's voice, he calmed down. He held his arms over his face. "Put the torch away, lad, Yer shoinin' it in me oyes…" he said. "Who are y'?"

Max turned off the light. "My name is Maxwell Smart, Mister," said Max.

The man laughed softly. "I thought y' was the bulls."

"What's the bulls, Mister?"

"That's the rail police. We're breakin' th' law, y'know. Ow old are y', lad?" The tramp had a pleasant, soft, tenor speaking voice.

"Eight years old on my last birthday, Mister."

The man pulled his carpetbag out of Max's way. "Y' c'n call me Charlie," said the tramp. "C'n I call y' Maxie? Maxwell seems too fancy a nyme fer a young lad..."

"Sure," said Max.

"Sit down, Maxie. So we c'n talk." The man paused, trying to make out Max's features in the dark. "So where are y' goin'?"

"I'm running away from home," said Max, defiantly.

"Oh, I see," said Charlie. "and why are y' doin' tha'?"

"Don't want to talk about it, Mister."

"I said y' c'n call me Charlie…tha's me nyme," said the tramp. "and what plyce are y' goin' to, me lad?"

"Don't know, Charlie."

"Well, I shall be leavin' this luxury compartm'nt soon…y' feel loike some companionship, Maxie?"

Max wondered. The tramp seemed nice enough. And Max didn't really want to be alone in the dark, not knowing where he was. "Sure, Charlie," he answered.

"The train ain't gonna stop, lad, so we mus' jump…are y' up t' tha'?"

"Yeah, Charlie, I am."

Soon the train slowed. Charlie put his derby on his head and shoved it down firmly. Then he took hold of his carpetbag and a walking stick that Max hadn't seen before. He pulled open the door on the side of the boxcar and asked, "Are y' ready, lad?"

"Yes, sir," said Max.

"Jump now!" yelled the tramp. They both jumped in unison and landed softly in a haystack.

Max landed on his head in the soft hay and the tramp had to pull him out by his feet.

The tramp led the way to a clearing not far from the tracks. There was evidence of people having made campfires in this area, but it was deserted at the present time, except for some campfires flickering in the far distance. Charlie gathered a bit of wood and made his own campfire.

"Are y' 'ungry, lad?" asked the tramp.

"Sure am, Charlie," said Max.

"See tha' stream t'other soide o' th' tracks? I sh'll bring wat'er from there…it's a runnin' stream, so's th' wat'er will be clean. Y' sty 'ere." The tramp pulled out a canteen and a large tin can from his carpetbag. He went over to the stream.

Max wasn't frightened to be alone; the crackling fire was warm but the tramp was taking a while coming back. He was becoming a bit concerned when he finally heard Charlie returning.

"Thought you left me, Charlie."

"I would neveh do tha', Maxie," said Charlie, in a serious tone. He smiled at the boy. He put the large tin of water on the campfire and pulled out some dried beans and some vegetables from a sack in his carpetbag. He cut them up with a hunting knife and sprinkled some salt on them which he procured from a vest pocket. From the other pocket, he sprinkled a pinch of pepper into the soup.

"Sorry we don't 'ave no meat. Maybe tomorra we'll 'ave some."

Max offered the tramp his jerky and the biscuit. "Y' keep th' jerky, Maxie; moigh' come in 'andy sometoime. But I suggest y' should be eatin' th' biscuit…it'll go bad fast, won't do y' no good tha' wye."

Max gave the tramp half his biscuit, which he accepted graciously.

"Maxie, I 'ave t' apologise, I only 'ave one set o' dishes…y' don' moind sharin' do y'?"

"No, I don't mind! Now, my Mom, she wouldn't like it at all, sharing with a stranger…" his voice trailed off.

"Tell me 'bout yer Mum, Maxie."

"No, don't want to talk about it."

"A'roigh'. I respec' yer wishes. So, y' bein' me guest, y' mus' eat first."

The soup took a while to cook, and the tramp dished it out with a wooden spoon into a metal bowl. Max thought the soup was very tasty. Or maybe he was just very hungry. But it was filling and there was plenty for both the boy and the tramp. They finished every bit.

Charlie had filled the canteen with cold water and they shared that also. "Don't 'ave no milk for y', lad, but maybe we will 'ave some tomorra."

The tramp rinsed the dishes in water and dried them with his handkerchief before returning them to his carpetbag.

"I wan'a early start on sleepin' t' noigh', Maxie. We sh'll be walkin' some tomorra. Y' c'n sleep when y' want, but I recommend early more than lyt'er. Keep close t' th' foire. Keeps th' animals awye."

"Animals?" Max looked startled.

"Said it keeps 'em awye. Don't be froighten'd if y' 'ear some 'owlin' in th' distance."

Charlie pulled a ragged blanket from the carpetbag. He held it out to Max. ""Ere, lad, take this. It c'n be a bi' chill during th' noigh'."

"What about you, Charlie, this is your blanket…"

"I 'ave me coat. Keeps me noice 'n warm."

Charlie curled up on the ground and put his hat over his face. Max put the blanket around him and fell asleep quickly.


	2. On The Road

Max awoke to the sun coming up with a rosy glow in the east. It felt like it would be a warm day. He glanced over at Charlie, who was still sleeping, in a somewhat fetal position. Max hadn't really gotten a good look at his traveling companion the night before, so he came closer and looked at the tramp.

Charlie had his black derby over his face. In the light of day the hat and Charlie's other clothes appeared very shabby. He was a slender, small man. He wore a black cutaway coat that seemed too small for even the tramp's thin frame. His gray trousers, on the other hand, looked very large. He wore a yellow and brown plaid vest with a faded white shirt underneath. He wore no collar or tie. His shoes looked huge and were scuffed and worn. Max noticed holes on the bottoms of each shoe.

Max's stare must have awakened the tramp, for he stirred and removed his derby. He smiled at Max and sat up. In the light of day, he seemed older than Max had thought him the night before. He had smile lines about his mouth and eyes. Charlie had black curly hair with grey sprinkled throughout the curls. His hair was cut short in the back but longer and unruly in the front. He wore a small, jet black toothbrush mustache. But the most striking features of his face were his large, expressive, bright blue eyes.

"Y' want some breakfas', Maxie?" asked Charlie. He pulled out two hard-boiled eggs from the carpetbag, peeled them, cut them in half and sprinkled salt and pepper on them from his pockets. He handed one egg to Max, along with the canteen of water.

The tramp hadn't really gotten a good look at Max the night before, either. The boy was small and wiry, with jet black wavy hair, also a bit unruly. He had a long nose and hazel eyes. He had a habit of squinting his eyes, especially when thinking. He was wearing a blue work shirt with short sleeves that looked like it had been made for a larger boy. His worn pair of blue jeans held up by suspenders completed his ensemble.

"Max, y' sure yer eight years old? Y' look younger…"

"I'm eight, Charlie!" said Max. "Don't you believe me? So, how old are you?"

Charlie smiled. "Maxie, it ain't proper t' ask people what's older than y'self 'ow old they are, but I did ask fer it, I s'pose. If y' mus' know, I'm forty-noine."

"Pretty old, ay?" said Max.

The tramp smiled and the smile lines about his eyes crinkled. "No, Maxie. No' so old, but no' so young neither." He glanced at the boy again. "Y' know, tha's a bi' rude."

"Sorry, Charlie. I didn't mean it."

"I know y' didn't, lad." He smiled.

Charlie sat down on a flat rock near where their campfire had been. He picked up his bamboo cane and picked at his fingernails with the end of it. Then he took out a pair of rimless glasses from his inner coat pocket and put them on. He then took out a needle and some darning yarn from deep inside the carpetbag. He took off his coat and proceeded to patch several small holes and repaired a small tear in the top of his trousers. Max watched in fascination, for the tramp made somewhat of a show of it, humming a song and making some wide graceful gestures in time with the humming. He glanced at Max to see if he were watching. The tramp put the coat back on when he was finished.

"You know how to sew?" said Max, incredulously.

"If there ain't nobody t' do them things fer y', y' 'ave to learn t' do 'em y'self, Maxie. Besoides, y' wouldn't want me runnin' about w' me underwear 'anging out, would y'?" He did something to his hat that made it sail off his head and fly straight up. It came down exactly on his head.

Max laughed. "How did you do that?"

The tramp smiled, but offered no explanation. He put his glasses away and opened his carpetbag again. "Y' know 'ow t' sing, Maxie?"

"Yes, a little, Charlie…" said Max, wondering what that had to do with anything.

Charlie proceeded to take out a violin case from the bag.

"Is that your machine gun, Charlie?" asked Max excitedly.

Charlie laughed. "No, Maxie, it's me violin!" He started to play something Max couldn't identify, outside of the fact that he knew it was classical. Charlie played beautifully and Max was entranced. He jumped up and clapped his hands when Charlie finished.

Charlie bowed and tipped his hat. Then he pulled out a small tambourine and tossed it to Max. He began to play some folk songs, in a fiddle style. He stopped playing the fiddle occasionally to sing a chorus a capella. Charlie sang in a pleasant baritone voice. Max knew some of the songs and sang along. He played the tambourine and was amazed at how good they sounded together.

When they finished, Charlie said, "Bravo, me lad! Y' sound wonde'ful! We'll soon myke some money!"

"How do we make money singing, Charlie?"

"We pass me 'at and 'hope tha' th' audience is in a gen'rous mood. Now let's make ourselves clean an' propa."

Charlie put away the musical instruments and they went to the running stream where they drank some of the cold water and refilled the canteen. Then they washed their faces and hands and ran some water through their hair to get the dust out. Charlie pulled out a scrap of broken mirror which he asked Max to hold while he shaved. Then he washed his feet in the water. Max noticed that his feet were very small compared to the huge shoes he wore; that probably accounted for his odd walking gait. Max washed his feet too…the cold water felt nice.

Then they headed for the road. In spite of his odd gait, Charlie walked rather fast and Max scurried to keep up with him. The tramp carried the carpetbag in one hand and twirled the walking stick jauntily in the other.

"Maxie, wha' are y' runnin' away from?" asked the tramp again. "Y' do somethin' bad and yer Mum and Papa punish y'?"

"Said I didn't want to talk about it, Charlie," said Max defiantly.

"And y' don't 'ave to, neither, Maxie. I jus' want y' t' know, I sh'll be ready t' listen, if y' wan' t' talk."

Max suddenly stopped walking. The tramp stopped and turned around. "What's wrong, Maxie?"

Max looked up at the tramp. His eyes looked a little bit wet. "They just moved out on me, Charlie, took all the furniture, locked the door and left me. Me and Jake."

Charlie pointed to a flat rock by the side of the road. "Sit down, Maxie. Tell me who Jake is.

"Jake's my brother, older than me."

"Why aren't y' with 'im, Maxie?" asked Charlie.

"Jake doesn't like me. He locks me in the closet all the time. He beats me up. Then he stole my bike and my friend's dog…he's real mean, Charlie."

"Why d' y' think yer folks left y', Maxie," said Charlie gently.

"Guess they don't love me, don't want me." The tears were at the point of rolling down his cheeks and Max didn't want the tramp to see. He turned his back on Charlie. "My Pop is always yelling at me and Mom goes along with whatever he says. I can't do anything right, Charlie."

"Do y' 'ave any other fam' ly who moigh' be missin' yer?"

"I have an aunt and uncle. But I don't think they miss me much either."

The tramp was silent for a moment. "I 'ope yer wrong 'bout yer fam'ly, Maxie. Y' know, Maxie, I 'ad a son o' me own, adopted. "E's grown now an' on 'is own. I don't get t' see 'im much nowadays. I miss 'im. Yer loike 'im in a wye, yer a noice lad. Turn around, Maxie"

Max turned around and faced Charlie. His eyes were red. "Y' know, y' look a bi' loike me, more than me own son. Y' could pass for me own son."

"Can I be your son, Charlie?"

"It would be convenient t' 'ave y' sye y' are me son, Maxie, while we're on th' road. Less questions tha' wye. I learned the 'ard wye abou' tha'. But Maxie, this is jus' till yer re-unoited wi' yer own folks, y' 'ear?"

"I don't ever want to go back to them, Charlie. I want you to be my Papa." He hugged the tramp and Charlie hugged him back.

"Y' don't even know me well, lad, and y' may no' loike me loifestyle. But, yer take yer toime. When yer ready to go back t' yer family, tha' y' do."

"I don't know where they are, Charlie," said Max. "So I can't possibly go back."

"We'll see wha' 'appens. Now we 'ave t' get back on th' road, before th' day is gone."

The two vagabonds started walking again. They walked for what seemed to Max, to be miles and miles.

"Charlie, my feet hurt. I can't walk any more," Max complained.

"Maxie, y' better get some more stamina if y' want t' stye wi' me. We 'ave a lot'a walkin' t' do…and me limousine and droiver ain't available t' dye," Charlie smiled. Max laughed.

Finally they reached a small town. Charlie proceeded to the town square where he sat down on a bench. He combed the dust out of his hair again and gave the comb to Max. He buttoned on a wing collar and added a blue bow tie. He brushed his clothes and tidied up Max's clothes too. Max thought that Charlie looked like a gentleman, although shabby and tattered about the edges, but straight out of the Victorian age.

Then Charlie brought out the violin and tambourine and the duo started to play and sing. A crowd gathered. They clapped and seemed appreciative. At one point, Charlie put down the violin and danced to Max's singing and tambourine playing. Max passed the hat several times during the performance. After entertaining for about an hour and a half, the crowd broke up a bit. Charlie counted the coins.

"We made almos' ten dollars," said Charlie. "We're a success, Maxie. An' a big part is due t' you!"

"Me?" said Max, surprised. No one had ever praised him before for anything.

"Yeah," said the tramp. "If I sing by mese'f, I can't pass me 'at s' many times, but mostly, y' added a lot t' th' act! Y' sing noice and the crowd came because they wanted t' 'ear y'! Good job, me lad!"

Max smiled happily. The tramp had a way of making him feel good.

"Now we are rich and we c'n afford some good meals and a roof over our heads t' noigh'."

The two vagabonds had a nice meal at the local diner. It included meat and milk, like the tramp had promised.

Charlie got a room for the night at a ramshackle hotel. The room only had one small bed and not much else. The curtains were lace, but so old they had visible holes in them. There was a table with a large pitcher and bowl. There was no sink or commode, those were downstairs. And there was a shower downstairs too.

"Y' c'n 'ave th' bed, Maxie. I don't moind sleepin' on th' floor. Done it many times."

"No, Charlie. You're old. You should sleep on the bed," said Max.

"Seems t' me, Mister Maxwell, tha' t'was yer wha' was complainin' bout yer achin' feet. Yer eight-year old achin' feet! I think you need th' bed. And yer bein' a rude lit'le chap again…what'd I tell y' abou' tha'?"

"Sorry, Charlie. I never can speak my mind at home. I feel comfortable with you…Charlie, you talk different. Where are you from?"

"Oh, 'ere, there and everywhere, Maxie. But yer askin' me origins. I was born in London. A'roight, enough o' tha'. Toss me one o' them pillas from yer bed and wi' me fancy blanket, I sh'll myke meself a foine bed down 'ere."

Max grinned and threw a pillow at Charlie. Charlie hadn't had a good pillow fight in years, so he threw the pillow back at Max. Soon they were laughing, hitting each other with the pillows and beating the daylights out of the bedding. Feathers were flying everywhere. In next to no time, both of them were doubled up in laughter and out of breath.

Finally, both the vagabonds settled down enough to go to sleep.


	3. The Farm Hands

The next morning dawned bright and cheerful. Charlie awoke and sat up. He looked at the room. Everything was covered with chicken feathers. He smiled. He hadn't had that much fun in ….well, a long time.

He woke Max and they went downstairs to the shower. Upon returning, a maid was in their room cleaning. When Charlie and Max walked in the door, she turned. She was a pretty, petite brunette who looked angry.

"What happened here? This is a horrible mess to clean up! You should be ashamed, Mister!"

Charlie went closer to her. He tipped his hat and smiled. "Sorry, Ma'am. But it couldn't be 'elped."

"What are you talking about? There are feathers all over the room…in everything…it's a mess! Looks like you had a pillow fight in here!"

Max held his hand over his mouth to keep from snickering.

Charlie came closer to the maid. He tipped his hat again, smiled and took her hand in his and kissed it. That, apparently took her by surprise. She looked at him strangely.

"Ma'am, y'know wha' 'appened is this: last' night we was attacked by 50 giant chickens…'ow they go' in th' room, I couldn't sye, but it was froigh'ful…" Charlie said all of this with a straight face in a very quiet, sincere voice. The maid looked at him strangely again, then started to laugh. She slapped him in the face very hard, knocking him down. He fell on his back and his legs flew up into the air in a partial summersault.

Charlie sat up. "Wha's tha' fer, Ma'am?"

"For making up stories. Now get your things and hightail it out of here!" She tried to look stern, but she started giggling. She pointed to the door. "Get! Go on!"

Charlie and Max grabbed their belongings quickly. Max ran out the door. Just before he left, Charlie whirled the maid around and kissed her on the mouth. She tried to slap him again, but he ducked this time. He ran out of the room, grabbed Max by the hand and they ran down the stairs and out of the hotel and collapsed into a bench near the corner, both laughing hysterically.

When they regained their composure, Charlie said, "We mus' go looking fer some farm work t' day."

"Can't we make money entertaining?"

"Can't do tha' ever' day, Maxie. Same people won't pay no money ever' day for ent'tainment. We 'ave t'foind new places. And in th' meantoime, we 'ave t' eat. This morning', I want t' get us a good breakfas'; we moigh' not get no lunch. Let's go t' tha' diner again."

After a nourishing breakfast of coffee, eggs, bacon and toast, Charlie and Max were ready to look for work. They left the little town behind and the land became rural. At the first farm, Charlie went to ask if any farm hands were needed. Max could see the farmer shake his head "no."

The two vagabonds trudged down the road, asking about work at every farm, and receiving the same answer. Finally, a farmer nodded his head and Max and Charlie started work. Charlie did some heavy odd jobs, including chopping wood and Max fed the chickens. Later, Charlie and Max cleaned one of the barns. Max had never been so tired after a day's work. In fact, he had never done farm work before. And the day wasn't over yet.

At dinner time, all the farm hands ate together. Max noticed three of them that kept to themselves. They looked a bit formidable; they weren't smiling and friendly like the others. After eating, the farmer apologized to Charlie that he had no place for him and Max to sleep, but they were welcome to the hay loft in one of the barns. Charlie accepted graciously. He told Max to take his carpetbag, coat, derby and walking stick up to the loft and bed down. He would work till dusk and then join Max in the loft.

Max went up in the loft. He didn't mind having to make his bed in the soft fragrant hay. But he was curious about the carpetbag. Now that he was alone with it, he wanted to take a look inside. The bag was amazingly light, considering all the things Charlie pulled out of it. Max looked at it. It was a good size and made out of a thick material, gray colored background with a mostly wine-colored paisley pattern that included blues and greens if one looked closely. It was a little bit worn and a little bit dirty.

Max hesitated before opening it. His mother, on occasion, had told him to keep his nose out of other people's business, but Max didn't think it would hurt to take one little peek.

Max opened the button at the top and looked in. It was lined with a satiny burgundy-colored material. And there was absolutely _nothing_ in it! In astonishment, Max put his hand in and felt all around. There were no pockets or secret places. There was nothing in the lining. He wondered if someone had stolen Charlie's violin and other belongings. He re-buttoned the bag and set it and the walking stick, derby and coat down where Charlie would see them.

Max lay down in the soft hay, still thinking about the carpetbag, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. He fell asleep right away.

Some time later, Max was awakened by someone talking below him, in the barn. He glanced over at Charlie. The little tramp was fast asleep. Max wondered what time it was. He looked out the loft window to see that the moon was high in the sky. It must be very late. Out of curiosity, he tried to listen to what the men were talking about below him.

"Shipment of $5,000!" one man said. "Coming by truck…tomorrow…9:00 pm…arriving in town. For them sisters at the orphanage… some kinda building for the orphans."

"Hmmm," said a second voice. "How you think we can get it?"

"Easy…holdup…three of us…probably only two guards…dark of night…"

"How did you find out about it?"

"Heard the sisters talking about it at the telegraph office…they got a wire and sent one off. Gonna be delivered to the bank …that's where we intercept it. Get in the bank before it closes and stay there till the shipment comes."

One of the men laughed. "Won't know what hit 'em."

"Here's the floor plan of the bank. I drawed it up real nice…walked right in there and cased the place…nobody noticed! We tie up them guards before they get the money in the vault, push them in the vault and nobody sees them till next morning! By that time we're long gone!"

One of the horses whinnied, which must have startled the men. They stopped talking. He heard them walk quietly out of the barn. Charlie was awake now too.

"Wha' was all tha'?" he asked sleepily.

"Three of the farm hands are going to rob the bank tomorrow night! They're going to steal money meant for the sisters at the orphanage!" said Max, excitedly. "We have to do something!"

Charlie looked at Max, amused. "I say, wha' y' 'ave me do abou' it, lad? Arrest the w'ole bloody gang single-'andedly?"

"We could tell the sheriff, Charlie…we _should…_we heard them…"

"Max, me lad," said Charlie, choosing his words carefully, "I stye awye from th' law as much as possible. Th' times I 'aven't, I been th' worse fer it, even if I was tot'ally innocent'. I think we should keep far awye from this'."

"But we have to help the orphans, Charlie!" said Max plaintively.

"Go t' sleep, lad!" said Charlie, a little harshly. Then he said in a gentler tone, "Tomorra is another dye…it'll seem diff'rent tomorra."


	4. The Robbery

The next morning, Max awoke to see Charlie already awake. He was still sitting in the hay, busy with something in his hands. Max came over and sat next to Charlie. He realized the little tramp was cleaning a hand gun, a revolver. "What are you doing, Charlie?" asked Max.

"Cleanin' me gun. Neveh know when we moigh' need it," he said enigmatically.

Max was feeling some pangs of conscience for having looked in the carpetbag without permission last night. "Charlie, I wonder if those men stole some stuff out of your carpetbag."

"Why wouldja say tha', Maxie?"

"Well, where is your violin…and the tambourine?"

"Right 'ere, a' me soide," said Charlie. Max looked and the musical instruments were indeed lying in the hay next to the tramp.

"What about your dishes, Charlie, and your blanket?"

"In the carpetbag, Maxie."

"Are you sure?"

"Why are y' askin', me lad?"

"I…eh…just thought the carpetbag was a little bit light when I carried it up here last night," said Max. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to confess either, unless he had to.

"It's always a bi' loigh'," smiled Charlie. "And me things are all in there… 'ere, I sh'll show y'." Charlie opened the bag and removed the items Max had asked about.

"Oh," said Max.

"I'm pleased that y' worried 'bout me belongin's, but y' know, they're jus' things…we are th' syme wi'out 'em; mybe it's a bi'difficult t' get along wi' out 'em, but we c'n manage, am I no' correc', Maxie?"

"Yes, sir," said Max, with a serious look on his face. "Charlie, what are we going to do about the robbery tonight? If you don't do anything, I'm going to the sheriff myself!"

"Tha's brave o' y', lad, and I respect y' fer tha'. Well, I chynged me moind, we sh'll do something' 'bout tha' robbery ourselves."

Max felt relief. He was a boy who wanted to always be on the side of good and doing the right thing and he was having a hard time with the tramp's reluctance to do the same.

"What are we going to do, Charlie?" asked Max.

"I don' 'ave it all in me moind, yet, Maxie. But I think th' bestest thing t' do is t' wyte fer them ou'soide th' bank, tyke the money back and return it t' the sisters at th' orphanage."

"Charlie, wouldn't it be easier and safer to just report it to the sheriff?"

"Maxie, if anything' 'appens t' me, y' c'n tell th' sheriff, is that a'roigh'?"

"Sure," said Max. "What could happen to you?"

"Don't know, Maxie. Now 'ere's th' plan. We know th' shipment is a' 9:00 pm sharp. Them farm 'ands will be inside th' bank, waitin'. We wait till they come out w' th' money. I sh'll 'ave me gun, and I sh'll tyke th' money back from 'em. Y'll be waitin' outsoide th' bank w' a 'orse what we borrowed from th' farm. We roide t' th' sisters' plyce and return th' money."

Max thought about it. It was a logical plan. Almost sounded like something from one of the western moving picture shows. He and Charlie would likely be heroes.

"Y' go do y' job, Maxie. I sh'll join y' soon. I mus' talk t' Farmer O'Toole."

After supper with the other farm hands, Charlie and Max left work early and headed for town on the horse which the tramp had arranged to borrow from Farmer O'Toole. Charlie handed Max a small wad of money, their two day's wages and what was left over from their entertainment gig. "Maxie, y' be th' keeper o' th' money for us, fer now. Don' lose it; it's all we 'ave."

When they arrived in town, Charlie checked his pocket watch. "It's nearly ha' past eight. We 'ave a bi' o' toime t' wyte."

They tied up the horse a short distance from the bank. Then Charlie and Max stood at the side of the bank where they couldn't be seen in the shadows.

At 9:00 pm sharp, a truck with two guards pulled up. One of them carried a leather satchel which held the money. The other guard carried a gun. They were let inside by a bank official, who tried to lock the door after them, but was stopped by three men with kerchiefs tied around their faces who were already inside the bank.

Charlie stood on tiptoe to look in the bank window. There were lights on and he could see the three farm hands push the two guards and the bank official into the vault and then lock it. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it about his face like the farmhands.

Charlie bent down and whispered, "Go, lad, stay by the 'orse, untoy 'im and wyte fer me. I sh'll be comin' in a bi'. Go 'round th' back, so they can't see y'." Max ran off as the tramp instructed.

Charlie ran around to the front of the bank, and as the three farm hands were coming out with the satchel, he jumped out in front of them and yelled loudly, brandishing the gun, "Lift them 'ands up and drop yer weapons!"

Surprised, the only man who carried a gun dropped it to the ground. Then the one carrying the money said, "It's only the little Englishman from the farm!" The three started laughing. The man made a move to recover his gun.

"I mean it; don't pick up th' gun! And 'and over th' money!"

"There's three of us and how many of you? Well, I'm counting one!" The three farm hands snickered.

Charlie squeezed off a shot. It landed in the bank's door behind them, but surprised the men, who thought the tramp was bluffing. "Pu' th' satchel on th' ground, near t' me," said Charlie. He had both his hands on the gun to keep it steady. His knees were bent and he kept his eyes on the three men.

"Yeah, give him the money! He won't get away with this!" The farm hand put the satchel down slowly on the ground, near Charlie. He snatched it and ran. Max was already on the horse. Charlie made an amazing flying leap up onto the horse and they galloped away.

What Charlie didn't see was the sheriff responding to a call about a disturbance in the street, outside of the bank. The sheriff arrived in his police car and got out at the bank. "What's happening here, boys?" he asked the three farm hands, who had removed their kerchiefs when they saw the car's lights in the distance. They had also secreted the gun.

"Crazy little limey tramp just held up the bank. We tried to stop him, but he got away. He's on a horse!"

The sheriff got back in his car and put on the siren. He soon found Max and Charlie on the horse and overtook them. He pulled the car in front of the horse.

"All right, what's this about?" Charlie was trying to get the gun out of his back pocket, with no luck. "Hand over the gun," said the sheriff. "And where's the money?"

"Ere's th' gun an' th' money. But y' 'ave us all wrong. I took th' money from them fellas who really did rob th' bank. We're retunin' it to th' orphanage!"

"A likely story," said the sheriff. "Yer coming down to the jail and we'll sort it out there. And I might get ya for horse-stealing too!"

Charlie hated to get mixed up with the law. It always turned out the same way. Max and Charlie rode the horse to the sheriff's office, where he locked Charlie in a cell.

"Mister," said Max. "Can I stay with my Papa? I don't have anywhere to go…"

"I'm not in the habit of locking up little boys, lad." The sheriff had a definite Irish brogue. He was a tall red-haired man and he smiled kindly. "But, all right, you can stay the night with him. We'll talk about his crime in the morning."

Max hugged the tramp. Charlie looked really sad. "Charlie, you were great; I saw you! I'm proud of you!"

"An' where did it get me, Maxie. Tha's why I stay awye from things loike thi'…we'll talk about' it in th' mornin'. Y' c'n bring back me belongin's in th' mornin' too. No telling' 'ow long I moigh' be 'ere." Charlie stretched out on the small cot. Max removed Charlie's nasty shoes and curled up at the bottom of the cot, laying his head on the tramp's legs.

"Charlie, you have calluses all over your feet. You should be wearing socks."

"Yeah. But don' y' moind 'bout me calluses. Jus' go t' sleep."


	5. The Orphanage

The following day, late in the morning, the sheriff returned to the jail with a basket of food. It smelled wonderful and Charlie and Max were immediately interested.

The sheriff unlocked the cell and let Charlie and Max out. He told them to sit down at the table and unpacked the basket with food enough for the three. "Me wife likes to cook for the prisoners. She says a little kindness goes a long way. I happen to agree. We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Michael O' Shawnessy, Sheriff for these parts. And you?"

"I'm Charlie an' this is Maxie, me son. We're jus' itinerants workin' odd jobs. 'Ow long mus' we stay 'ere?"

"Well, Charlie, I've been doing a little checking into this case. You're cleared of horse-thieving; I talked to Mr. O'Toole. The horse has been returned to him. We found the two guards and the bank manager locked in the bank vault this morning. They verified that three of Mr. O'Toole's hands were the ones who really took the money and locked them in the vault."

"Then we come to you, Charlie. What were you doing outside the bank holding up the robbers?"

"That was my idea," spoke up Max. "I heard about the plans to steal the money from the orphans and the sisters. So I told my Papa he had to do something about it!"

The sheriff started to laugh. "That was pretty bold of you, Charlie, single-handedly getting the better of those three thugs. We found out they are wanted in several states for armed robbery. You could have been hurt or killed, Charlie."

Charlie ran his fingers through his hair, looking solemn.

"And if it weren't for your boldness getting the money away from those men and making a ruckus in front of the bank, I wouldn't have been able to deliver the money to the good sisters. Come, let's eat me wife's cooking. Then you're free to go."

The sheriff reached in a small, unlocked safe. "Here's your gun back, Charlie." Charlie put the gun in his back pocket.

The sheriff was friendly and Max warmed up to him. Charlie, still a little distant, because the man represented the law, finally started talking and soon the three were laughing over the previous night's incident.

Then there was a knock on the door. The sheriff opened the door and stepped outside for a moment, then returned with a woman wearing a black veil and black cape over a white nun's habit. "This is Sister Mary Genevieve; she's the head of the orphanage." He turned to Charlie and Max and introduced them.

The sister stepped over to the vagabonds and said, "I wanted to thank you in person for recovering the money for us…now the children will have a new roof over their heads, no more leaking. And we can build a new area to house a few more children…that $5,000 was a true God-send…it was a donation we are not likely to get again soon. And you are truly sent from God, too! Such a brave man!"

Charlie was embarrassed. He didn't know if he should shake the sister's hand or kiss it. Instead he just smiled and bowed. He was also embarrassed because he hadn't really wanted to try to recover the money. He had wanted to leave the area and forget the whole thing. And he certainly didn't feel brave. Why, during the incident itself, he had been shaking with fear. It took all of his willpower to keep the gun steady and yell boldly at the thieves.

The sister turned to Max. :"I understand you were an important part of this, too. Thank you from all the children. Can you come and visit us sometime?"

"Can I, Papa?" asked Max.

"Yeah, if y' wish t', Maxie," mumbled Charlie. "I'll get me belongin's and meet y' there. Then we'll be on our wye."

Max went with the sister to her dilapidated pickup truck. "Are you sure you don't want a ride to the farm?" asked Sister Genevieve of Charlie. "We can wait for you while you pick up your belongings."

"Come on, Charlie!" said Max. Charlie reluctantly climbed in the back of the pickup truck.

They stopped at the farm where Charlie retrieved his hat, coat, walking stick and carpetbag from the hay loft. He put on the derby and coat and hopped in the back of the truck, after tipping his hat to the sister and smiling nervously.

The ride to the orphanage was a long one and Max was happy that they hadn't had to ride out here on the horse the night before, in the darkness. The sister invited Charlie and Max to come in and see the orphanage and meet the children. Charlie declined and sat out front on the steps. He took out and lit a little cigarette butt from a tin box of similar stubs that he kept in his pocket.

Max went inside and was given the grand tour. The sisters introduced Max to the children and told them how he had helped them. The older children shook his hand and spoke their thanks and several young children grabbed him about the legs and hugged him.

Max loved the attention, but felt bad that Charlie wasn't here to see the children too. He didn't know why Charlie was acting so odd about this.

Then Sister Genevieve asked Max if she could give him anything…what did he need?

Max thought a moment and said, "Do you have any socks?"

Surprised by the request, Sister asked, "What size do you wear, Maxwell?"

"No, not for me, Sister. For my Papa. He has calluses on his feet from not wearing socks."

"Oh, such a kind boy, you are, thinking of your father instead of yourself. Well, I think we might have some socks that would fit him." She looked through some donated clothes and found two pair of thick men's socks.

"Is this all you want?" asked the sister.

"I think this is all we need. After all things aren't important, are they Sister?" said Max, paraphrasing what Charlie had said earlier.

"Well, aren't you the wise little boy, Max. Wise for your years."

"My Papa taught me that."

"He is certainly wise, too. Why doesn't he come in?"

"I don't know, Sister. Let me go out and talk to him."

Max went outside where Charlie was sitting near the steps, idly twirling his walking stick. "Charlie, why don't you come inside?"

"Don't want to, Maxie," said Charlie. Max thought Charlie sounded a little childish and stubborn.

"Why?"

"Maxie, come 'ere, sit next t' me, so I c'n talk quietly." He paused and put his arm around the boy. "I growed up in a orphanage and I ain't planning' to see th' inside o' one again. It don't feel good."

"Charlie, the sisters are real nice and the kids seem happy."

"Maxie, don't push me. I ain't goin' in and tha's that."

"I have a present for you, Charlie." He gave Charlie the two pair of socks.

Charlie brightened. "Thank y', lad. I 'ppreciate yer koindness." He put one pair on and the other went inside the carpetbag. "We'd best be tykin' t' the road again. I think we 'ave a train t' catch t' day, lyter."

Just then, Sister Genevieve came out. She pulled Charlie aside and said, "You certainly have a generous lad there." She told Charlie how Max had declined a gift for himself and instead asked for something for Charlie. She had a small sack of food, which she gave Charlie. "May God bless you both," she said.

Charlie tipped his hat and smiled appreciatively. "Thank y', Ma'am," was all he said.

Charlie and Max headed down the road again. "Where are we, Charlie?" asked Max after a while. Where are the train tracks? Did you ask the Sister for directions?"

"No, Max, I didn't want t' ask. We should be 'eadin' in a southerly direction. Look a' where th' sun is. Accordin' t' me watch, it's early afternoon. Long as we stye on the road, we won't be lost."

The two trudged along the dirt road for hours, growing more weary with each step. There weren't any signs of the railroad, a river or anything else that would act as a clue as to where they were. Charlie, frankly was getting worried. Not for himself, but he didn't like bringing a child into an unknown area. As evening came, a fog descended. The darkness grew pervasive, and more so, since thick clouds covered the sky, taking away the stars, the only clue to navigation through the murk.

"Pride goeth before destruction," Charlie mumbled under his breath.

"What?" asked Max.

"Nothin', Max. I want yer t' 'old on t' me 'and. I can't see me nose in front o' me fyce and I don't want t' lose yer."

Shortly after, they lost the dirt road. Whether they had wandered off of it or whether it had simply ended, Charlie didn't know. But he knew they had to stop walking. "C'n y' see a tree about', Maxie?"

Max saw a vague outline in the distance. "Here, Charlie, this direction." He pointed Charlie's hand in the correct direction.

"Tha's a good lad. I see it now. A'roigh', y' sit roigh' 'ere a' th' bottom o' this tree. I'll myke a campfoire."

As it turned out, Charlie found several pieces of wood just the right size at the bottom of the tree just right for a small campfire. Even with the fire, the fog was so dense, they could hardly see around them. Charlie pulled out the sack of food the sisters had given them and was delighted to find sandwiches of meat and cheese. Fruit was included. Charlie pulled out his canteen of water.

"Now while it's this foggy, Maxie, I don't want y' wanderin' about'. Y' stye by me soide. An' close t' me whiole we're sleepin'. We syfer tha' wye."

"Sure, Charlie," said Max.

Charlie couldn't sleep. He watched as the fog lifted during the night. The moon came out and the stars became visible again. Charlie studied them and figured out what direction was south. But he still didn't know where the nearest rail line was, or town for that matter. Finally, he fell asleep, near morning.


	6. The Gypsy Camp

Charlie awoke to Max's demanding voice, "Charlie, get up, Charlie…"

"Wha' y' want, lad?" he said, without opening his eyes. Suddenly he got a whiff of an exotic perfume. He opened his eyes to see, about a foot away, a lovely woman standing next to Max. Charlie jumped to his feet, and bowed to the lady. He looked at Max questioningly, then back at the woman. She was young with dark, violet colored, flashing eyes and a bright scarf tied around the top of her head, her long black hair blowing in the warm breeze. Her filmy, many layered and bright clothing were extremely eye-catching. She wore large, round gold earrings, gold bracelets and necklaces. They tinkled as she moved.

Charlie smiled at her, staring. "Charlie," Max pulled at Charlie's sleeve. "The lady knows where we are…"

Charlie didn't appear to be listening. He kept looking at the woman, smiling at her. She smiled back, winking at him.

"Charlie!" yelled Max.

Charlie came out of his reverie. "Wha' is it, Maxie?"

"I said, the lady can tell us where we are!"

Charlie turned back to the lady. "So, Ma'am, where are we? Me nyme is Charlie. I am pleased t' meet yer..." Max thought Charlie was acting like a schoolboy. He was flirting unabashedly and smiling at the girl. Max thought it was really annoying, especially because he couldn't get Charlie's attention.

"It's Violca," she answered in a low, feminine voice.

"A beauty-ful nyme, Ma'am, fer a beauty-ful lydy. What's it mean?"

Max rolled his eyes and sat down at the foot of the tree. This might take a while. He should have asked one of the men to come with him instead.

"It means violet-colored…" she said with a soft accent.

"I see, yer mus' be nymed fer y' oyes; y' 'ave lovely oyes, Violca."

"Thank you, Charlie." She batted her long eyelashes at Charlie and Max rolled his eyes again. Max coughed and cleared his throat to get Charlie's attention. Finally Charlie turned around. "Are y' a'roigh', lad?"

"No, Charlie, I'm dying of hunger and thirst." Max grabbed at his throat and coughed again and stumbled around, feigning hunger. Finally, he let himself collapse on the ground with a groan.

He had finally gotten Charlie's attention. Charlie and the girl both laughed. "I think me son is troyin' t' tell me somethin'.

"Why don't you both come to our encampment for some food? We're a traveling band of entertainers. I can show you where the rail line is located," said Violca.

Of course Charlie agreed and put his arm around the girl. They walked off arm in arm, talking animatedly, with Max following behind. Charlie was hugging her and even stole a kiss at one point. Max rolled his eyes again.

Then Max noticed something. The girl had slipped her hand into Charlie's watch pocket and pulled the watch out of his pocket, unhooked the watch from the fob and dropped it into her skirt pocket. Max was about to pull on Charlie's sleeve to tell him about it when he saw Charlie's hand slip into her pocket and retrieve the watch. In a deft move, he held the watch behind his back and motioned for Max to take it. Neither Charlie nor the girl stopped their flirting, and Max was amazed at Charlie's clever moves. Max took the watch and put it in his own pocket.

Shortly afterward, they arrived at the encampment. The group was large and seemed to live out of colorful wagons. Max wondered if they were with a circus.

They were camped by a river and the rail line was located across the river. Max and Charlie were invited to eat with the group. Max didn't want to be suspicious, but he felt it was better to be safe. He pulled the carpetbag away from Charlie gently and put it on his lap. Charlie didn't appear to even notice it was gone.

After eating, one of the men got out his violin and Charlie asked Max for his also. "Where is it, Charlie?" whispered Max.

"It's in th' carpetbag, Max, where would y' think it is?" Max opened the carpetbag and there was the violin case and the tambourine. Puzzled, he pulled them out and closed the bag. He put the carpetbag near his feet for safekeeping.

The musical troop and Charlie sang, danced and played for hours. Max enjoyed himself too, playing the tambourine and singing. One of the men taught him a new song and Max sang it perched on top of a table, dancing. The applause was uproarious and Max was sorry when they had to leave. He got down off the table and looked for Charlie. Charlie was in a corner kissing Violca goodbye. Max hoped she hadn't found anything else in Charlie's pockets.

Then, with a pang, Max realized he didn't know where the carpetbag was. He glanced around. Charlie's violin, bow and tambourine were still on the table. He picked them up. He walked around the wagons, hoping to find the bag. Suddenly he spotted it, just inside one of the wagons. Looking around to make sure no one saw him, he quickly retrieved the bag. He opened it. Curiously there was nothing in it again. He replaced the violin and tambourine in the bag and buttoned it.

Max hoped Charlie would be ready to leave soon. He was still standing in the corner kissing Violca. Max went over and pulled on his arm. "Come on, Charlie, we have to leave before the day is all gone again….Charlie!" Charlie still ignored him. Max was getting impatient and mad. He kicked Charlie hard in the leg and stomped on his foot.

"Owww!" yelled Charlie. "Wha' y' do tha' fer?"

"Come on, let's go!" said Max. He pulled Charlie roughly by the arm. Charlie looked like he had just come out of a trance. He let Max pull him back to the river bank and they started walking beside it, looking for a bridge to cross the river and reach the rail line. Oddly, Charlie didn't even look back.

"What happened back there, Charlie?"

Charlie looked a little dazed. "Don't know, lad. I knows tha' some ladies c'n weave a spell over y', but…"

Max pulled out the watch. "Here's your pocket watch back, Charlie. That was a pretty slick trick. How did you do that?"

"Well, Maxie, I used to be a little loight-fingered meself. I know one when I see one."

"Did she know you got the watch back?"

"Not sure, Maxie, not sure."

"Is everything still in the carpetbag, Charlie? I put the violin and tambourine back in…"

"Thank y' lad. Everything is still there. Don't worry none."

After walking a while, Charlie seemed himself again. They found a bridge and crossed it. The rail line was close by.

"We have t' walk a distance, Maxie. We mus' board th' train at th' yards when th' trains is stopped or after a town, when they've slowed up consid'rably. Out 'ere, they 'ighball down th' loine and there ain't no way t' cloimb aboard wi' out killin' y'self. Either way, we 'ave t' do some walkin'."

All along the tracks, evidence of human habitation could be seen. Charlie chose to walk a distance away from the tracks, near the hobo encampments. As they walked Max felt they must be nearing a town, for there were hoboes and tramps gathered in groups, passing time playing cards, talking, drinking and eating, reading or sleeping.

Charlie and Max kept on walking, Charlie tipping his hat whenever one of the tramps looked over at them. He usually got an acknowledgement back. Soon they passed the hobo encampments and the scenery became more citified. Houses appeared, at first sparsely, then closer together.


	7. Riding in Style

They walked past the passenger train station in the middle of town. "Why don't we just buy a ticket and get on the passenger train?" asked Max. "We have some money."

"Maxie, think abou' it. That don't make no sense. We don't know where we're 'eadin', so no one could even tell us 'ow much is the ticket."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Max. He hadn't thought of that.

"'However. There is another wye. Th' baggage car; they pu' the baggage in front o' the door. We c'n riode on th' platform front o' that. Ain't no one will see us then."

Charlie went up to the ticket window. He tipped his hat to the lady. "When's th' next train departin' in a southerly direc'tion?" He leaned on the wooden window sill and grinned at the lady.

"Where do you want to go?" she said curtly.

"Wha' plyces would yer rec'mmend, Ma'am?" asked Charlie flirtatiously. He tipped his hat. This lady wasn't pretty or young or nice, but he tried anyway.

"You don't know where you're going?" she asked.

"Jus' wytin' fer th' roight place t' go, Ma'am." She was counting money. He put his hand over hers and stroked it. She pushed him away roughly and pulled the money out of his reach.

"Get away from the money, you little tramp. Why don't you go ride the freights? I'll tell the bulls and they can pick you up."

Charlie shook his finger at her in mock displeasure. "Bad attitude, Ma'am," said Charlie. "Y' won't neveh sell no tickets wi' a look on yer fyce loike tha'." Charlie knew she couldn't reach him to slap his face from behind the partially opened ticket window. He smiled winningly. "Why don't y' smoile pre'ty and tell me wha' I need t' know?"

Suddenly Charlie felt someone lift him up by the back of his coat and turn him around. It was an enormously tall man with a huge mustache and formidable eyebrows. He was wearing a train conductor's uniform. "Are you pestering my wife, little tramp?"

Still up in the air, Charlie tipped his hat at the man and smiled self-consciously. "I ain't pesterin' 'er; she won't give me no inf'mytion. I need th' schedule so I c'n roide th' train!" The man finally put Charlie down.

"So, what do you want to know?"

"When's th' next train 'eadin' south?"

"Where do you want to go?"

Max was still listening. Charlie wouldn't give up. He seemed to like teasing and pestering people sometimes. It was funny, but probably not to the people being pestered.

"What places would yer rec'mmend?" said Charlie again. The conductor slapped Charlie in the face and knocked him down. Charlie jumped up and kicked the man in the pants. Then he grabbed Max and they ran to a small park nearby where they collapsed on a park bench, laughing hysterically.

Max said, "While you were having fun pestering people, I asked for a train schedule. Here." He handed Charlie a folded schedule with quite a few pages. Charlie squinted at the small print, then pulled out his rimless reading glasses.

"Hmmm," he mused. "Them trains is goin' many good plyces." He turned to Max. "Y'know, boardin' trains after dark is the best thing t' do. We can't be seen so well. An' we 'ave th' rest o' t'dye t' lollygag about'. We still 'ave money. We c'n procure a good meal, then…I see'd one o' them movin' picture theatres over there…would yer loike t' go?"

"Sure, Charlie! I'd love to go!" said Max excitedly.

When the two vagabonds emerged from the theatre, it was nearing supper time. They had a quick supper at the local diner, then sauntered over to the train station again. According to Max's schedule, there was a train bound for Memphis, Tennessee, due in a half hour and departing shortly thereafter. Charlie and Max sat next to the building, in the shadows, where they would be least likely to be seen.

"Now Maxie, we sh'll be jumpin' aboard th' train when it's in the station. We mus' do this after dark and when th' train is just startin' t' roll…yer un'erstan' me, lad?"

"Yes, sir." Max looked thoughtful. "Have you ever been caught by the bulls, Charlie?"

"Yeah, once."

"What do they do to you?"

"They arrest yer an' throw yer in gaol or send yer t' th' work farm. I was lucky, I escap'd." Charlie put his arm around the boy. "But we won't be caught. 'Ow didja loike yer noigh' in jail, Maxie?"

"Wasn't too bad. And I guess they have to feed you there, so if you don't have any food, you find something to do that will get you locked up in jail and then you can get a square meal."

"Spoken like a true tramp, me lad! But y' don't commit no crimes, lad, jus' them little things like sneakin' on the train or pinchin' a bit o' food. Things y' need t' do anywye. I don't steal nothin' unless I'm 'ungry, Maxie. Wha' I said about bein' loight-fingered b'fore, well, I used t' think it was funny. But it ain't funny to the person what loses what y' tyke. I only do tha' now in self-defense…when there ain't no other choice…loike the lydy what pinched me watch. Understand, lad?"

"Yeah, Charlie. Well, I knew that before. My Mom told me never to steal or lie."

"Yer Mum sounds like a wise lydy, Maxie."

"I guess. I miss her. Not my Pop, though. Wish I knew where they went. I'd like to see her again." Max felt tears rising in his eyes and he was glad Charlie couldn't see his face in the darkness. Charlie didn't say anything, just kept his arm around Max and hugged him.

The train arrived shortly and Charlie pointed out the baggage car. "We walk around th' other side o' the train, and jump on when it start t' roll."

It was a long ride and Max fell asleep. He was back to back with the tramp and they had to keep still and not stand up. Max kept his arms wound around the carpetbag.

After riding for what seemed hours, Max was starting to feel a little sore from not moving. He turned around to where he could talk to the tramp. "How much longer till we get to Memphis?" said Max.

"Don't know, Maxie. There's some stops before Memphis, accordin' to the schedule, but I forgot what they was and it's too dark to look again. I think it woise t' get off at th' first stop. Me back is killin' me. Wha' abou' you?"

"I'm pretty sore too, Charlie."

At the next stop, the two vagabonds jumped off the baggage car platform surreptitiously, but were seen by the rail police. Charlie and Max took off and evaded the bulls by running into a local wooded area where they scaled a tree. The bulls gave up and the two tramps were on their way again. They walked further away from the tracks and came upon a hobo jungle where they joined some tramps and hoboes at a campfire and shared some food.

They walked the rest of the way to Memphis. They stayed in the area for the rest of the summer and into the autumn. Charlie was concerned that Max wouldn't be warm enough at night, so he found some old, discarded, but still serviceable clothes for him. He found an old coat and hat and a vest that was a little too big, but made Max feel rather grown up. Charlie found another blanket, this one nicer than his ragged and worn one. He placed it in the carpetbag for Max to use at night.

Max and Charlie did odd jobs, entertained and made enough money to eat well most days and rent rooms for the night. One morning, Max awoke in their rented room alone. Charlie's hat, walking stick and coat were gone. He started to panic, thinking Charlie had left like his parents had. Then he spotted the carpetbag sitting in a chair. Charlie wouldn't have left without the carpetbag.

Max wanted to get a closer look at Charlie's violin. Maybe he could learn to play it. He hoped it was still in the carpetbag. He opened the bag. He smiled when he saw the violin case. He carefully removed it and put it on the bed. He sat down next to it, and opened the case carefully. He picked up the violin and put it under his chin like he had seen Charlie do. He plucked one of the strings. It sounded pretty. He took the bow and drew it across the strings. It made a horrendous sound. Max dropped the violin on the bed, then picked it up again, hoping he hadn't damaged it.

"Wha' are y' doin', lad?" asked Charlie's soft voice from behind him. Max hadn't heard Charlie come in.

Max turned around and stood in front of the bed with the violin behind his back. He scrunched up his face. "Nothing, Charlie."

"Yer loyin' t' me, lad. Pu' th' violin awye."

Charlie sat down on the bed next to Max. He put his arm around the boy. "So, lad, wha' were y' doin'?"

"I was fooling around with your violin, Charlie. I wanted to see if I could play it."

Charlie laughed. "It takes a lotta learnin' and practice to play it, lad. I c'n give y' lessons, if yer interested. But I don't never want y' t' touch me violin again, 'less yer learnin' on it. Y' know, it's me liveli'ood. If th' toime comes when I'm too old t' chop wood n' such, I still c'n play me violin. I don't 'ave no money t' replace it, if it's broken. Yer un'erstan' me drift?"

"I'm sorry, Charlie."

"An' I don't wish t' 'ear no more loyin, either, un'erstand, Maxie?"

"Yes, sir," said Max, solemnly.

"It's a'roigh', Maxie, already forgotten." He pulled several papers out of his pocket. "I 'ave news, lad."


	8. The Telegram

"You have news, Charlie? What is it?"

"Telegram, Maxie. From Washington, DC."

"From the President?" asked Max, a little confused.

The tramp smiled. "No, Maxie, y' think th' President would send _me_ a woire? No' loikely!" Charlie laughed. "No, it's a woire from y' Aunt Emily and Uncle Alex."

"What!" Max jumped up in surprise. "How did they know where I am?"

"I told 'em, Maxie," said Charlie, reaching for his glasses. He looked at the paper. "Says 'ere, they want y' back and will be ready and waytin' fer y' when I bring yer 'ome. They gave me their address, so I c'n bring y' roight to their door."

Max looked about to cry. "So how did you find them?"

Charlie pushed the glasses down on his nose and looked at Max over them. "You y'se'f told' me about 'em; their name and where they live. I jus' put them things t'gether in me moind and did a bi' o' research…"

"Charlie, I don't like you any more!" Max made a move to run out of the room. Charlie caught him.

"Maxie, where are y' goin'? Y' don't b'long w' me. I ain't really yer Papa. I 'ave no claim t' yer…"

"You said I could be your son, Charlie, you promised…"

"I said fer th' toime we was travelin', y' could be me son… I told y' there'd be a toime when yer mus' come back 'ome."

"It's not fair, Charlie, not fair…"

"Loife is often no' fair, Maxie. We mus'tyke th' bad wi' the good. But, now, this ain't bad…you be stayin' wi' yer fam'ly and cousin Niko…yer said 'e is yer age. Wha' abou' them friends y' told me abou'? An' y' mus'return t' school. As it is, y'll be missin' some…"

"I don't care about school!"

"Wha' is it y' told me y' wish t' be when y' grow up? A detective or somethin' loike tha'? Y' never get t' be nothin' bu' a tramp if y' don't 'ave some learnin', lad."

"I don't want to leave you, Charlie!"

"It ain't the end o' th' world, Maxie. We still 'ave the ride 'ome and we'll 'ave some fun, too. We sh'll lollygag about' we 'ave some money, we sh'll tyke our toime bringin' yer 'ome. An' I ain't gonna disappear from yer loife; y'll see me again."

Max was crying now and he didn't care if the tramp saw him or not.

Charlie handed Max his handkerchief. "'Ere, lad, stop y' croyin'. Y'mus' be strong. Loife won' always 'and y' no flowers."

Max took the handkerchief, wiped his eyes and blew his nose. He handed it back to the tramp who wiped his eyes in it too and blew his nose. He stuck it in his breast pocket and pulled up the ends so it looked smart.

Max and the tramp took their time about coming home. They stopped along the way many times and Charlie made sure that Max got to do as many interesting things as they could manage. They stopped on occasion to entertain for money and did some odd jobs too. Charlie spent their money judiciously, but kept a bit aside to see a film or something else fun for Max. They rode the rails again, this time, upon Max's insistence - _only _the freights. They rode the trains off and on, and did a lot of walking.

Finally arriving in Washington, Max and Charlie walked to Max's aunt and uncle's home. It was a small, well kept up home. Uncle Alex made his living on the railroad and was one of the lucky ones who still had a job throughout the depression.

Aunt Emily was out in the garden, on her knees. Max and Charlie walked up to the white picket fence and Max went through the gate. Charlie stayed outside the fence.

"Aunt Emily?" said Max. At the sound of his voice, she turned and arose, "Max!" He ran to her.

Emily, a pretty, dark-haired woman in her late thirties, hugged Max to her. She looked exactly like Max's mother, for she was her sister. She had wondered where Max was, especially after getting Charlie's wire. She knelt down to smother Max in hugs. She kissed him. Then she stood up and noticed Charlie.

"Max, introduce me to your friend."

"Aunt Emily, this is my best friend Charlie."

Charlie stepped through the gate. He bowed formally, took her hand and kissed it. Emily was impressed. She took in his shabby, dusty and ill-fitting clothes but also noticed his large, twinkling blue eyes. He looked to be a tramp. Emily was always very hospitable to the hoboes and tramps who came asking for handouts, and this one had brought her nephew home. He seemed to have manners, too.

"Won't you come in, Charlie?"

"I'd be delighted, Ma'am."

Emily insisted that Max take a bath and put on clean clothes and she offered a bath to Charlie, too. He declined, saying he would get one at the hotel. He gave Max his part of the money, after all Max had worked hard for the money, too. Max didn't want to take it, but Charlie insisted. While Charlie was talking to Emily, who had requested that he take off his derby in the house, Max found the hat and secreted the money in the inner sweatband. He hoped Charlie would find it when he needed it most.

Charlie left that day, after dusk, and made his way to the train yard. He fell asleep under a nearby tree, his head on the carpetbag, wrapped in his ragged blanket.


	9. Time Marches On

In the days that followed, Max missed the tramp a lot. He tried to stay busy so he wouldn't think about it. And he tried to study hard at school to make his aunt and uncle proud of him. His cousin Niko, who had always been a good friend, became his best friend and confidant.

Max didn't see Charlie again until school was out the following June. He came around and explained that he spent the winters where it was warmer. Emily let him take Max and Niko with him for a day, here and there. Emily wouldn't have approved had she known, but they rode the rails again, not very far this time and went exploring. Occasionally the tramp had a bit of money to take them to a movie or treat them to ice cream.

Charlie wrote to Max once in a while. It was hard to read the tramp's writing, for the words were so misspelled and his handwriting so bad, but Max was always happy to hear from him and he spent as long as it took to decipher what the tramp was saying. He even sent a photograph of himself once, which Max kept in his bedroom. He sent postcards too, of some of the places he visited.

As the years went on, the tramp's visits became fewer and fewer and his letters and cards dwindled too. One day when Max was 16 years old, he realized he hadn't heard from Charlie in over a year. He wondered what happened to the little tramp.

Max grew up and things changed.

It was a day in mid-June, 1970 and it was late afternoon. The sun was still shining brightly.

Maxwell Smart, now Secret Agent 86 working for Control, a government agency dedicated to fighting evil and promoting good, had married his sweetheart and fellow Control agent, 99 in November of 1968. They became parents to twins in October of 1969. They were taking a long-awaited extended vacation in the southwest United States and had decided to drive to see the sights.

Max headed southwest from Washington, D.C., where Control was located. They had driven about eight hours and it was early afternoon.

"99, I think this is one of the roads that Charlie and I walked down when I was a kid. I'm sure of it!"

"Where were you going, Max?"

"I don't remember exactly…we walked so many places. And I was always complaining about my feet hurting. When I saw Charlie's poor calloused feet, I stopped complaining."

Suddenly, Max squinted his eyes. Something else oddly familiar had caught his attention.

"99," he said, "Sweetheart, there's someone walking in the middle of the road. See, up ahead?"

Agent 99, a brunette with large lovely blue eyes, rode in the passenger seat of their red Tiger sports car as Max drove. The top was down and the wind tousled her brown, shoulder-length hair.

"That's dangerous to walk in the middle of the road like that," said 99. "Oh Max, be careful…don't hit him!"

Max slowed the car and watched the man up ahead walking. "99, I know him! His walk is unmistakable! I'm going to pull around and get a better look." Max steered to the side of the road, driving slowly, then shouted at the man. "Hey, Mister, can I ask you something?"

The man looked over at them and stopped. He walked to the red sports car with an odd gait. He was wearing a black derby hat and carrying a walking stick, which he had been twirling debonairly. In his other hand, he carried a carpetbag. He tipped his hat at 99, smiling, then said, ""Ow c'n I be of service?"

Max jumped out of the car. "Charlie, it's you, isn't it? It's me, Max, Maxwell Smart! It's so good to see you after all this time!"

The man stared at Max for a moment, then recognition brightened his eyes. "Maxie, me lad…it _is _yer! Y've grown up!"

"99," said Max. "Meet my childhood friend, Charlie!"

Charlie smiled his winning smile and bowed to kiss 99's hand. She was quite impressed. "Max has talked about you a lot, Charlie! You had a big influence on him!"

"Charlie, get in the car, we'll take you out for dinner and get re-acquainted!"

"Where do yer wish me t' sit, Maxie?" The car didn't have a back seat.

"Right here, between us, Charlie, you don't take up much room." Max was amazed at how small the little tramp was; Max himself was not a very tall man, but he was somewhat taller than Charlie.

"Maxie, do y' moind if I flirt w' y' wife? I always ask me best friends if that's a'roigh." Charlie had a twinkle in his eye.

"Sure, Charlie," said Max. "Give her a big kiss, if you want to."

99 thought Max was being a bit cavalier with her affections, but soon she was laughing and letting the flirty little tramp tease her, tell her how pretty she was and put his arm around her. 99 thought he was absolutely charming. She was entranced by his large, expressive blue eyes with little laugh lines around them and he had a positively winning smile. He took off his derby so it wouldn't blow off in the wind and 99 could see a little gray throughout his otherwise jet-black and very curly, unruly hair. His small mustache was jet black with no gray in it. He had smile lines around his mouth too. He was, she thought, very attractive, in spite of his shabby clothing. There was, of course, only one man that she loved and that was Max, but as far as being charmingly attractive, well, Charlie won, hands down. She liked his humorous flirtatiousness too.

Max rounded a curve and an old-fashioned looking inn with a restaurant attached came in sight. It was called _The Roaring Twenties. _Charlie pointed. "Let's stop 'ere, Maxie. Me girlfriend works 'ere."

"Charlie, you have a girlfriend?" asked Max.

"Yeah, I do! An' I can't wait f' yer t' meet 'er!"

The three entered the pub and procured a table. 99 looked all around them. The pub was furnished in authentic 1920's style, including the waitresses' costumes. It was a bit dark and romantic and the music was from the '20's too. 99 was quite entranced by the atmosphere.

Max didn't think too much about the atmosphere and costumes; he was too busy reading the menu. Charlie read it too. Before long, a very attractive and petite blonde waitress came over to their table.

"Maxie and…wha' did y' say y' name was…" he asked 99.

"Just call me Nina," she said, pronouncing the name "NINE-ah."

"Maxie and Nina, meet me best girl, Edna," said the little tramp.

"Pleased to meet you both," said Edna. "Maxie, Charlie's told me so much about you!"

"Good, I hope," smiled Max.

"Oh, very much so," said Edna. "He raves about you!" She pulled out her pad and pen. "What can I get for you?"

The three gave Edna their order, and they didn't have long to wait for their meals to be ready. Just as they finished, there was a stir on the small stage to the side.

Charlie said, "I 'ope yer excuse me fer a toime; I 'ave t' join me girl Edna on stage." Max and 99 nodded. Charlie took his ever-present carpetbag with him to the stage and pulled out his violin. He played while Edna sang and they were accompanied by a man with a guitar and one playing piano. The ensemble sounded wonderful. Half-way through their set, Charlie motioned to Max to come up on stage. He held up Max's old tambourine and pointed to it.

"99, I'm going up and play tambourine with him, like I used to," said Max.

"Oh, please do, Max, this is wonderful entertainment!"

Max played and even sang a bit. Then he motioned for 99 to come up and she also sang with the group.

When the set was over, Charlie said that Edna had asked off early and the four of them could get acquainted. Max and Charlie talked about old times. 99 liked Edna very much too. She seemed like an old-fashioned, polite girl. 99 showed her pictures of the twins.

99 couldn't keep her eyes off Charlie, though. In the partial darkness of the restaurant, his animated face lit up by the candlelight's flickering glow, he seemed to be about twenty years old. Outside, she had taken him to be around fifty years old. She couldn't even see the gray in his hair that she had noticed before. There were no lines around his eyes or mouth. His chin was smooth and firm.

99 shook her head and rubbed her eyes. She glanced at Max. The candlelight hadn't changed Max's age; Max was forty years old. Oddly, Max looked older than Charlie.

Max told Charlie and Edna what his true profession was…secret agent for Control and not the greeting card salesman cover story they told everyone else. He knew Charlie wouldn't tell anyone.

"I'm proud o' y', lad," said Charlie. "I knowed y' would stand up fer the good. I knowed y' would turn out t' be a foine man."

Max and Charlie reminisced until the time Charlie would call the "wee, small hours." Edna and 99 got to know each other, and listened to the men's conversation with fascination.

When the time came to leave, the four went outside. Max didn't want to say goodbye. He said, "Charlie, can we see you again?"

"Yeah, you'll see me again, lad. And it was a true pleasure meetin' yer, Miss Nina," said Charlie, bowing and kissing 99's hand. She was entranced by his old-fashioned manners.

"Where do you live, Charlie?" asked Max. "We can drive you home…"

"I live roigh' 'ere a' the inn, Maxie. But now, I mus' escort me girl 'ome. An' we loike t' walk in th' moonloight, Maxie."

Max smiled. "Well, we have reservations at the hotel in town, Charlie. We'll come back tomorrow."

"Tha' y' do, Maxie, tha' y' do."

The Smarts drove off and checked in at their hotel. As they got ready for bed, 99 said, "I really like Charlie and Edna, Max. But there's something odd about him."

"What's that, 99?"

"Did you notice that he looked a lot younger inside the restaurant, and when he was with Edna?"

"Probably felt good having his girl with him…maybe our company too, 99. I felt great too, seeing him again after all these years."

"Max, how much older is he than you? Ten years or so? Was he about eighteen when you met him?"

"No, let me see. He told me he was forty-nine years old when I met him. I was eight."

"Max, that's impossible."

"Why?"

"Max, listen to me. He looked to be around 50 years old today when we met him on the street. I know…I was sitting next to him, in the sunlight. I saw his hair, some gray in it, not much, mostly black; some lines on his face. Then when we went inside the pub, his hair had no trace of gray in it, his face had no lines… he looked younger than you!"

"It must have been the darkness in the pub, 99."

"Max, I looked at you and you didn't look any different than you had outside."

"I can't explain it, 99."

"But here's the oddest part, Max. You told me you met him when you were eight years old. So the year must have been 1938. You said he was 49 years old. This is now the year 1970. That's 32 years ago. Max, how much is 49 and 32?"

"Eighty-one…" Max suddenly "got it" and said, "that's impossible! But you're right, he would have to be 81 years old! And he looked the same today as the day I met him in 1938! This is weird…"

Max squinted his eyes. "99, there's something interesting I remember... Charlie always used to wear glasses to read and even when he sewed his pants…to see the needle I guess; well, he didn't put them on to see the menu. It was pretty dark in the restaurant and the print was pretty small…I had a hard time with it myself. This is weird," he repeated.

"It sure is, Max." She thought a moment. "Max, Charlie said he lives at the inn. Let's go talk to him tomorrow. And, by the way, you forgot to give him back his tambourine. I found it in the car before we checked in the hotel."

"Okay, 99, I'll remember to bring that back to him."


	10. The OldTimer

The following day, Max and 99 packed their clothes and carried the suitcases out to the sports car.

"99, if I can persuade Charlie to spend some more time with us, would that be okay?"

"Max, it would be wonderful. I like him so much…and…I want to figure out what this mystery is. There must be an explanation."

"You're right. Everything has to have a logical explanation," said Max, although he doubted there was one. He had been thinking about Charlie's odd carpetbag, too. There was never a logical explanation for that. But now he would be seeing things with the eyes of a man, not a child. Things would make more sense.

They drove the short way back to the inn and restaurant. At first, Max couldn't find it. "99, did I pass the inn? It had a huge sign _The Roaring Twenties_…we could hardly miss that…"

"I don't see it either, Max…oh wait, I think that's it…look to the right side…" The inn was indeed still there, or more to the point, the building was there. The sign was missing. Instead, there was a huge, tacky looking sign saying, _COME INN._ There was another neon sign flashing in the window of the restaurant saying _EAT_. The place looked dilapidated and in need of repair. Max stopped the car.

"Are you sure this is the place, 99?"

"It _resembles_ it, Max, I don't know for sure." Max and 99 got out of the car, Max carrying the tambourine. They entered the door of the inn. A tall young man was sitting behind the desk, reading. He stood up when the Smarts entered and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Yes," said Max. I need some information. I'm looking for a man I met yesterday…it was here…he said he lives here…I need to return something to him."

"What's his name, Mister?"

"Charlie."

"What's his last name?"

Max realized that after spending all that time with Charlie, he had never asked the tramp's surname. "I don't know his last name, but he wears a derby hat…." Max described Charlie's appearance in detail.

"Haven't seen anyone like that. I certainly would remember someone who looks that odd," said the young man. "But there is someone who might know, there's an old-timer here who likes to keep busy doing odd jobs for us. He goes way back and he might remember. Oh, he lives here too. Wait, I'll get him."

The young man went into a back room and they could hear him shout, "Old-Timer, there's some people who want to talk to you."

"You don't have to shout; I'm not deaf," said another voice.

The tall young man returned, followed by a small, thin old man, wearing a light blue vest and light-colored trousers. He wore no coat and garters held up his shirt sleeves. He had a navy blue silk tie around his neck. His white hair was parted in the middle and slicked back with hair tonic.

The old man smiled. "May I be of some service to you?" he had a soft, young-sounding voice with a hint of an English accent.

"We're looking for a friend of ours; we can't seem to locate him." Max described Charlie.

"Yes, I know of whom you are referring. He used to frequent this restaurant regularly. He lived here for many years. He was called 'The Tramp' or sometimes just 'Charlie.'"

"What happened to him, Sir?" asked Max. "Did he pass away?"

"No, no," said the old man, with a smile. "He's still among the living. As a matter of fact, he still does odd jobs now and then, and he entertains, too."

"Can you tell me where he is, right now?"

The old man smiled again. He evaded the question. "What did you say your name is?"

"Max, Maxwell Smart…"

"Mr. Smart, you didn't introduce me to the lady."

"Her name is Mrs. Smart," said Max without turning around.

"I think the lady deserves a better introduction than that. Try it again."

Max turned around. "This is my wife, Mrs….eh…Nina Smart. And your name, Sir?"

"They just call me the Old-Timer."

"Don't you have a name?"

"Certainly."

"What is it?"

"Lad, you're being rude, asking personal questions. What did I tell you about that?"

"Sorry, Sir."

"Now, what business do you have with the Tramp?"

During this whole time, 99 was watching the old man's eyes. They were bright blue and twinkling.

"Sir, I knew the Tramp when I was a boy. We spent a lot of time traveling together. He taught me a lot of things and helped me through a hard time in my life. I talked to him just last night and I wanted to see him again before I leave here. I sang with him and his girl last night and played this tambourine."

Max placed the instrument on the desk in front of the old man. "I wanted to return it to him."

The old man looked up at Max with a sincere glance. "Maxie, I think the Tramp would want you to keep it as a remembrance."

"How would you know that, Mister?"

"I know him well."

99 was still watching the old man. He winked at her. She smiled back. She had figured out his secret. Max was still trying to get a straight answer from the old man.

"Why don't we go to the restaurant next door and you may tell me if this is the same place where you saw the Tramp last night."

The old man put on a light colored jacket and hat and picked up a cane near the door. "Can I ask you for your arm, young man?" Max gave him his arm and helped him down the steps. The old man had small feet and nice looking shoes. His suit fit well, emphasizing his small, thin frame.

The old man unlocked the door of the adjacent restaurant. "It opens for dinner at 4:00 pm," he explained. "Feel free to look about, Maxie."

Max walked around the restaurant. It was obviously the same building where they had met Charlie last night. But it had been remodeled, seemingly overnight, into a garish diner, instead of a romantic 1920's restaurant. A bar had been put in at one end of the room and a juke box sat next to it. Over the bar was a huge painting. Max squinted at it. It was painted in soft colors and it depicted a smiling woman in a flowing dress. Why, the woman looked exactly like Charlie's girlfriend, Edna.

"Sir," said Max, "who is the woman in the painting?"

"Well, Maxie, when Charlie came into a bit of money at one time, he had his girlfriend's picture painted."

"Is that Edna?" The old man nodded solemnly.

"What happened to her, Sir?"

"Charlie met Edna when they were young and he was always in love with her, but because of his itinerant lifestyle, not much came of the romance. When he met her again, years later, the romance blossomed. Charlie and Edna married, later in life. They were extremely happy. She was the love of his life. Unfortunately, she passed away just last year. He keeps this painting here to honor her, so that everyone can see how beautiful she was." The old man dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief.

"I'm so sorry, Charlie," whispered 99 to the old man. She rubbed her hand over his shoulders in a comforting gesture. "I liked her very much." He nodded and smiled at her, but she could still see the tears in his eyes.

Max was still looking at the painting. "Maxie, would you do me one favor, please?" asked the old man.

"What is it, Sir?"

"Behind the bar, underneath Edna's painting, is the Tramp's carpetbag. Would you bring it to me?"

Max brought the carpetbag to the old man who proceeded to pull out the Tramp's violin. "Where is your tambourine, Maxie?"

"Right here," Max held up the tambourine. The old man started playing the violin. He played the first piece that Max had ever heard Charlie play. Max suddenly figured it out. He walked closer and closer to the old man as he played. At the end of the piece, Max said, "Charlie?"

"Maxie, you finally recognized me! It took you a while!" Max hugged the old man and his eyes started to get wet. He couldn't help it. Soon Charlie was sniffling a bit and 99 had tears running down her cheeks. When they could all talk again, Max asked 99 for a kleenex. He blew his nose and dabbed at his eyes.

"Charlie, how did you learn to talk so nice?"

"Lessons, my lad. Almost anything can be learned."

Then Max started to laugh. "You were calling me "Maxie" all along and I didn't pick up on that. But you look so different…what happened to the mustache, Charlie?"

"I shaved it off a while back. Since I stopped my itinerant lifestyle, I'm not the Tramp anymore. I finally bought some nice clothes; my old ones were in bad shape and my feet couldn't take wearing bad shoes any longer."

"So, how old are you, Charlie?"

"What did I tell you about that?"

"I know it's rude, but tell me anyway."

Charlie smiled. "Eighty-one on my last birthday."

"Can you tell me a couple other things, too, Charlie?" They all pulled out chairs and sat at a table.

"Like what, lad?"

"How did you do that yesterday and last night? I could have sworn that you looked fifty years old when we met you on the road, the same age you were when I met you the first time. Then last night, you seemed younger than me…"

At this, Charlie started to laugh. "I've always been younger than you, Maxie. You take things so seriously all the time."

"What about the carpetbag?"

"What about it?" said Charlie.

"There's never anything in it, Charlie, when I open it."

"Then don't open it, Maxie."

"But how do you get all those things in it, and it's still empty?"

"I told you before, careful packing."

"Then why was it always so light to carry?"

"I wouldn't have been able to carry it everywhere if it would have been heavy, Maxie. By the way, I need to ask you a rude question."

"What is it, Charlie?"

"Maxwell, how old are you?"

"I'm forty years old, Charlie."

"I disagree. I think you're still eight years old."

"What do you mean?" asked Max.

"You're still caught up in the past, in a place to which you can't return. You are still asking questions that have no answers, questions that, even should they be answered, don't matter."

"You're right, Charlie," smiled Max. "But I wish I could take you with me and we could do some of the things we used to do."

"You can't go back, Maxie. You have to keeping going forward. However, for old time's sake, let's do this again." He stood up with the violin and began to play. They sang, played and Charlie even danced a bit.

After several hours, Charlie looked exhausted. He sat down and put the violin away. "Today is my day off, lad, and you'll have to excuse me; I'm becoming a bit tired."

"What do you do here at the hotel?" asked 99.

"I count the money, file, keep the books in order and keep the pickpockets at bay." He looked at Max when he said that. Max laughed. "And a few other things…like entertaining on occasion. The one thing I refuse to do is to capture bank robbers." At this, 99 looked puzzled, but Max doubled over in laughter.

"Come with me, I'll show you where I live. And bring the carpetbag, Maxie." Charlie had a small suite of rooms at the top floor of the inn, where he lived rent-free as long as he was employed by the hotel..

"Don't they have an elevator, Charlie?"

"No, but it's good exercise," the old man insisted.

His suite of rooms was small, consisting of kitchen, bath, bedroom and parlor which doubled as a dining room. He had a small closet and a pantry. There was a table and chairs next to the window and a bed and dresser in the bedroom. There was another, smaller painting of Edna in the parlor. The largest thing in the apartment was a baby grand piano.

"You play piano?" asked Max.

"Yes, always have, Maxie. It was just too hard to carry it with me when traveling, though, so I never had one of my own until I came to live here."

"You could have put it in your carpetbag, Charlie."

"You're getting impudent, lad," said Charlie, smiling. Suddenly he put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. "I want you to meet my entertainment partner, Maxie." A small, dainty cat with long red fur and large green eyes bounded into the room. It took a flying leap and landed in Charlie's outstretched arms.

"What's her name?" asked Max.

"I call her Edna," said Charlie, glancing at Max, "for old time's sake. See what else she does." He showed Max and 99 how the cat could leap through a hoop, and several other tricks. "She helps me when I do my musical act. She does much more, but we're not set up with the props here in the apartment. People think it's unusual to have a performing cat."

"Well, it is!" said Max. "That's amazing! How do you get her to do that?"

"A little training, Max. And she likes me. She's a good companion, not asking much from life. She only needs a bit of caring for. And she takes good care of me, too."

The cat rubbed herself around Max's legs and he gave her a pat on the head and a scratch under the chin. She started to purr.

"Maxie, let me show you the best part of my apartment." Charlie led the way up a short flight of stairs to the roof. It was flat and had a stone railing around the area just above the apartment. There were pots of colorful flowers and several lounge chairs.

"This is lovely up here, Charlie," said 99. "The view is fantastic."

"Yes," said Charlie. "I can see for miles in any direction. There's even a view of the river, yonder. And I can hear the trains going by regularly, whistles blowing. There's a crossing nearby, I've heard people say that train whistles annoy them, but to me, it's a stirring, welcome sound.

"Max," said Charlie. "I'm sorry to bring our visit to an end. I know you would like to stay longer, but I'm exhausted and I have a show tonight. I need to sleep this afternoon, so I'll be ready. I'll stay out here long enough to watch you leave. If you look up, I'll be waving."

"It was so wonderful to meet you," said 99. She hugged and kissed the old man. Max hugged him too.

"Just close my front door, no need to lock it," said Charlie. Max and 99 descended the stairs, went through the apartment and walked down the several flights to the restaurant. They came out on the street and got into the red sports car.

As Max pulled the car away from the curb and started to drive away, 99 looked over at the building and gasped. "Max stop the car here." The sign on the building said, _The Roaring Twenties_.

Then she gasped again. "Max, look up!" Charlie was waving to them from the rooftop. But it wasn't the old man; it was the little tramp, who looked to be twenty years old again. Edna was standing by his side, waving too, her dress blowing in the warm summer wind. The tramp was wearing his derby and he tipped it to 99 when he saw her below. He touched his lips and blew her a kiss. He turned around and kissed Edna too, putting his arm around her. They both kept waving until Max and 99 were out of sight.

"Now what was that?" asked Max.

"I don't know," said 99. "Let's not ask, just accept it as a lovely experience."

"I still want to know about that carpetbag, 99."

She leaned over and put her finger on his lips. "Ssssh," she said.

**The End**


End file.
